


The Constant

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: After living in New York for several years, Justin is having doubts. However, when he calls his mother to tell her that he isn't coming home for the holidays, he doesn't expect it to garner such a response from everyone back home. He certainly isn't expecting Brian's reaction.Brian thought things were fine, until he's informed that Justin isn't coming back for the holidays—by Michael, not even Justin himself. Brian can't help the doubt that begins to creep in, but he's not going to sit back and let it eat him alive.





	1. Chapter 1

“I can’t make it back for Christmas, Mom,” Justin said over the phone.  He had the cordless phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he cleaned brushes.  He had to finish the piece he was currently working on, but it was giving him all sorts of trouble, so he’d decided to stop putting off calling his mom with the bad news about the holidays.

“Is something wrong?” Jennifer asked, immediately jumping to worst case scenarios, not that Justin could really blame her for that after everything he’d been through.

“Nothing’s wrong.  They pushed the previews for my latest show up to right after the new year, and I’m not going to have enough time to finish what I want to get done if I fly home even for a few days.  I’m really sorry.” 

Justin truly was sorry about it too.  The holidays were the one time of year he got to see all of his friends from Pittsburgh all together.  He tried to make it back a couple of times a year, but inevitably not everyone was around or available when he was there.  Not to mention, Lindsay and Melanie were still living in Toronto, so it was even harder to get to see them if he wasn’t there for the holidays when they came back as well.

“I understand, honey.  We’ll all miss you,” she told him, doing a very good job of masking her disappointment.  Justin could still hear it lurking beneath the surface, but he appreciated her attempt. She’d be coming for his show in less than a month though, so they’d celebrate then.

“I’ll get a fake tree just for when you come to visit, and we can celebrate then,” he promised.

“Of course, dear.  What will you do instead?  Is there somewhere you can go to celebrate?” she asked, catching him off guard before he could come up with a convincing lie.

“A few people in my building are having an open house of sorts, so I’ll probably stop by there,” Justin told her.  He hoped it was convincing because he had every intention of completely ignoring the holiday and working straight through.

Justin was suddenly hit with a memory of Brian coming back to the apartment so late one holiday that Justin had thought he’d been tricking, but he’d been carrying his briefcase and still wearing his work suit.  Justin had had trouble understanding Brian’s inability to just put work aside, but now he got it.

“Justin, are you still there?” his mother asked, sounding like she’d been asking for a while.

Shaking his head to rid himself of those memories, Justin steadied himself.  “I’m still here. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay,” he insisted.

“I can’t help it.  I’ll always worry about you and Molly,” she retorted.

“I know, but I’m doing great, and I’ll see you before you even know it.”

Justin hurried through the rest of the call, itching to get away from his mother’s scrutiny before she started asking hard questions.  When he finally hung up, he sighed heavily. It wasn’t that things were going terribly, but New York wasn’t the paradise of artists he’d imagined it to be.  

It wasn’t the magic of making Rage in LA.  Justin wasn’t sleeping in a pool house the size of his parents’ house while he grew up.  His apartment was essentially the size of Brian’s closet, and his studio space was shared with half a dozen other artists.  

Justin had been there for  six  years, and he was more afraid to go home a failure than he was hopeful that this coming show would finally be his big break.  The big break wasn’t coming. He was getting by, but this wasn’t the movies. He wasn’t going to take the art scene by storm.

Picking up the brushes that he’d been cleaning, Justin went back to his workstation.  He had the studio to himself for the moment, but it wasn’t making the work any easier.  He wasn’t even sure what his vision for this piece was anymore. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever had one for it to begin with.

Justin massaged his trembling hand as he tried to envision what he wanted to show his audience.  His hand had been acting up more lately, and it had only added to the stress. 

Taking a deep breath, Justin got back to work.  He still had work to do, and there was no time to wallow in self doubt.

* * *

“Have you heard from Justin recently?” Michael asked, sliding into the booth across from Brian.

Brian had been well into his second cup of coffee and attempting to avoid all human interaction until at least his third.  Clearly, his powers of mind control were getting rusty.

“What makes you think we speak regularly?” Brian asked.  He knew he was fooling absolutely no one at this point, but he did have an image to protect.  He and Justin spoke weekly, more frequently if one of them was in the mood for phone sex or video chat sex.  

They hadn’t spoken in over a week, but that wasn’t uncommon when Justin had an approaching show.  He was always stressing over putting things together and putting the finishing touches on his masterpieces.  

Brian had tried to check in on him before a show when Justin first moved away, and he’d nearly gotten his head chewed off from hundreds of miles away.  He’d given Justin his space since then. If Justin wanted to talk, he’d call.

“Cut the shit. Did you know he’s not coming to Christmas?” Michael asked, sounding about as outraged as his mother would be, which told Brian exactly how Michael had gotten that tidbit of information.

“He doesn’t tell me every last detail of his day…”

“So you didn’t know.  Did the little asshole even intend to tell any of us, or was he just not going to show up?” Michael complained.  

“Clearly he told  _ someone _ ,” Brian pointed out, doing his best to mask his own disappointment.  Michael was too outraged to notice anyway, but Brian didn’t want to risk any wandering eyes noticing either.

“His mother!  And if she hadn’t run into Ma at PFlag, we never would have known.”

“When exactly did he tell Jennifer?” Brian asked, waving for another cup of coffee.

“Yesterday!”

Brian raised an eyebrow at his best friend, waiting for his words to settle in.  Finally, Michael took a deep breath.

“Okay, it hasn’t been that long, and he’s probably busy with the show coming up, but how is he going to miss Christmas?  It’s the only time he gets to see everyone,” Michael continued more logically.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t have to,” Brian said levelly as he drained his cup before it was refilled.  He thanked the waitress and went back to nursing his coffee.

“It just feels like we see him less and less, and when we do he’s distracted.”

Brian frowned.  He couldn’t argue with Michael’s sentiments because it was all true.  Justin had been pulling away. Brian had thought it had just been with him.  Perhaps Justin had met someone or was finally sick of putting up with Brian’s queen outs over the phone.  However, if Michael felt it too, maybe Justin was just done with all of them.

It had been inevitable.  Frankly, Brian had thought it would’ve happened a lot sooner, but when Justin had kept insisting on their weekly calls, Brian had been lulled into a false sense of security.

Was this it?  Was Justin finally cutting them loose?

Brian finished his coffee in two gulps and made an excuse about an early meeting before escaping any further catastrophizing by his best friend.  He had his own catastrophizing to do.

* * *

Justin leaned against the headboard of his bed as he rubbed his aching hand.  He’d spent the better part of the afternoon and evening dealing with call after call from the Pittsburgh crew.  First, Debbie had called and ripped him a new one for missing her holiday dinner. She’d talked his ear off for over an hour, shifting between ripping him apart and fussing about him working too hard.  

Then Lindsay had called and guilted him about how the kids were going to miss him, and how fast they were growing.  Justin didn’t believe for a second that Gus was going to be taller than him by the next time he saw him, but he kept that to himself.  

Michael had called and reiterated most of his mother’s points with the added bit about them never getting to work on Rage together anymore.  Then Emmett had called to “confirm the guest list” for Christmas dinner, but he’d stayed on the phone with Justin for the better part of an hour encouraging him to not let his flame burn out from overworking himself.  

Justin was exhausted, and he’d gotten no work done with the near constant barrage of calls.  The only people who hadn’t called him were Ted and Brian. Ted, at least, had the tact to let Justin make his own decisions.  Brian was probably pretending he didn’t give a shit what Justin did.

Looking down at the suspiciously quiet phone, Justin considered calling Brian, but he pushed the thought away.  He had work to do. He couldn’t waste time listening to Brian breathe into the phone when he had so much to do.

Six hours later when he couldn’t even hold his paint brush and Brian still hadn’t called, Justin wished he’d called him instead.  Brian would be at Babylon now, and Justin should really get some rest.

For three days, Justin came up with excuses as to why he shouldn’t call Brian.  Obviously, Brian had heard the news by now. Lindsay and Michael would have called him as soon as they’d talked to Justin themselves, possibly before as well.  So, Brian either didn’t care, or he was giving Justin space.

Justin wasn’t making much progress with his canvas, and his hand continued to be a problem.  It only added to Justin’s frustration, and the constant bombardment with the holidays didn’t help at all.  

By the weekend before Christmas, Justin was barricaded in his apartment watching the snowfall outside.  He had his hand in a brace because it ached nearly constantly, and he was battling either allergies or a cold.  He was just too run down to really figure out which it was. 

The radio was playing softly in the corner, and it took Justin a minute to realize someone was buzzing his apartment.  He slowly pushed himself off the bed, rehearsing how he’d politely deny whoever was hoping he’d let them into the building.

“Who is it?” Justin said into the intercom.

“You better have a trick up there because there is no other excuse for how long it took you to answer the damn buzzer,” Brian’s voice filtered through the device.

Justin gasped, taking a step back.  It couldn’t be. Brian had never shown up without an explicit invitation that bordered closer to demand than polite invitation.

The buzzer sounded again when Justin didn’t immediately respond.  Justin unlocked the door instead of scrambling for the words to say.  He opened his door and rushed around the apartment, attempting to tidy up a bit.  Brian was entirely too anal to see his apartment in its current state. 

* * *

Brian didn’t know what the hell he was doing.  Not two days earlier, he’d decided that Justin had completely written off their relationship and was never coming back, and Brian had to tear off the bandage and accept the truth.  Then about twelve hours ago, he’d been so overcome with rage at being left behind again by the man he’d trusted that he’d had Cynthia book the earliest flight to New York, and he’d packed an overnight bag before hopping on the plane.

Now, here he was, standing outside Justin’s building waiting for the man to answer when he could very well be out clubbing...or doing  _ anything  _ for that matter.  Brian had no plan, which was new territory for him.  Add to that, he really didn’t know how Justin would react to him showing up on his doorstep at ten at night only weeks before he had a show opening.

When Justin didn’t immediately answer the buzzer, Brian started to question what insanity drove him to show up unexpectedly in the first place.  As he continued to wait in the falling snow, he convinced himself that Justin wasn’t home.

“Who is it?” Justin’s voice crackled through the intercom, startling Brian.

“You better have a trick up there because there is no other excuse for how long it took you to answer the damn buzzer,” Brian retorted, feeling off balance.  He’d never cared about Justin tricking in the past, but the thought of Justin being with someone else on top of recent events just broke him further. It wasn’t jealousy, but a feeling of abandonment.  

When Justin didn’t answer but hit the buzzer, Brian wasn’t sure what to make of it.  He entered the building and went straight for the elevator. 

“Don’t be a lesbian,” he muttered to himself as the elevator stopped on Justin’s floor.

Brian steeled himself as he walked to Justin’s door and pushed it open since Justin had left it ajar.  “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked as he found Justin running across the apartment carrying an armful of clothing.

Justin froze, looking sheepish as he turned to Brian.  His cheeks were actually tinged red as he cringed. “Just doing a little housekeeping since I wasn’t expect a guest,” he explained.

“Why?” Brian asked, stepping further inside.  He was so thrown by Justin desperately trying to clean the apartment that he forgot his previous worries for a moment.

“My apartment’s a mess.”

“Sunshine, I lived with your for the better part of five years.  I am well aware of what a mess you make when left to your own devices as is my housekeeper,” Brian said, cautiously approaching Justin.

Justin smiled brightly at that.  “Right,” he said, dropping the clothes and stepping over them to throw himself into Brian’s arms.  He pressed his lips to Brian’s, coaxing him into a searching kiss before kissing down his throat and burying his nose against Brian’s neck.  “What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t sound too excited to see me or anything,” Brian deflected, not really having a solid justification for the surprise visit.  He knew it was out of character for him to show up out of the blue, and he couldn’t even imagine what was going on inside Justin’s head.

“Is everything okay?” Justin asked almost immediately, cupping Brian’s face and trying to look him in the eye.

Brian grabbed his hands and held the in place.  “I’m fine; everything’s fine. Don’t queen out on me.  I’ve already had to deal with a last minute flight close to the holidays. I can’t take any more drama,” Brian said, moving his hands to bury his fingers in Justin’s hair.

Justin smiled up at him, stroking his cheek with his thumb.  “Then to what do I owe this visit?”

“Word on the street is that you intend to miss Debbie’s Christmas extravaganza.”  

“Who told you that?” Justin asked, attempting to sound innocent and in doing so confirmed his guilt.

“At this point, who hasn’t is the real question.”

Brian dipped in and kissed Justin’s cheek despite how uncertain he still felt.  Touching Justin was a constant. It was how they did their best communication. Things fell apart when they didn’t touch each other.  

Justin ducked his head.  “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you...or avoid telling you,” he confessed, tucking his head back into Brian’s chest again.  “I was actually avoiding work when I decided to call my mother. I figured I’d have time to tell you and the others because she isn’t...she’s usually pretty discrete.  But then the calls started rolling in, and well…”

Brian snorted, continuing to run his fingers through Justin’s hair, finding it soothed him.  “None of them handle change very well,” Brian said.

Justin laughed at that remark, pulling back to look Brian in the eye again.  He hit Brian with the full force of his skeptical look.

“I don’t either.  We know this,” Brian admitted.  

“Why did you drop everything and come, Brian?”

“Why aren’t you coming home for the holidays, Sunshine?”

They both stared at each other in a stalemate.  Brian wasn’t sure he could admit the reason he’d dropped everything, including a very important client to in order to fly to New York for an undetermined amount of time.  He’d been better about addressing his feelings and his fears, but he doubted he’d ever be as open about them as Michael or even Justin.

* * *

Justin took a deep breath, staring up into Brian’s eyes.  He’d been reading the Kinney Operating Manual for years now, and he could detect fear from 300 miles away at this point.  The man really wasn’t that hard to read, and right now Brian Kinney was  _ scared _ .  The why wasn’t as important as the level of fear it would take for Brian to hop on a plane and surprise Justin when he hadn’t done such a thing in the decade they’d known each other.

“Because I have so much work to get done before my show, and I’m struggling to do it without taking nearly a week off to fly home.  I can’t imagine how far behind I’ll be if I leave now...as it is I don’t know if I’m going to get what I want done,” Justin admitted, knowing Brian could hold out for hours or days if he wanted to.  Justin didn’t have time for that, and he’d rather spend what time he had with Brian doing more pleasurable things. 

“That’s really it?” Brian asked, sounding baffled.  

“Yes.  It’s exactly what I told my mother…”

“Mikey made it sound like you were dying or moving to France or something equally dire,” Brian said, clearly deflecting from Justin’s own inquiry.

“Michael has been known to blow things out of proportion from time to time,” Justin said, shrugging noncommittally. 

“Lindsay was upset.”

“Lindsay has trouble seeing past her own needs and motives.”

Brian frowned but nodded.  “Emmett was concerned.”

“Did you ask him about what?” Justin asked, recalling the hour he’d spent on the phone with Emmett, pouring his heart out because he needed an outlet for his concerns.

“Do I ever?” Brian retorted, making a face that told Justin just how ridiculous he found that suggestion.  

Justin rolled his eyes.  “Why didn’t you call?” he asked instead of touching Brian’s comment.  

“Like talking on the phone has ever accomplished anything other than phone sex.”

Justin sighed, pulling away and walking toward the canvas he’d been working on earlier in the day—before his hand became completely fucked.  Even as he walked, he felt the slight tremor in his hand. 

* * *

Brian could see how rundown Justin was just from the line of his shoulders and the way his hand twitched when he wasn’t moving it.  Maybe Justin wasn’t lying about struggling to meet his deadlines.

Running a hand through his hair, Brian followed Justin to the makeshift work area he’d created in his apartment.  “Why aren’t you working in your studio?” he asked. 

“So, I can work in the middle of the night if I can’t sleep.  At least if it’s here, I can work out some of the anxiousness by working on it when I’m too wound up to sleep,” Justin admitted, looking down at the abstract image on the canvas.

“What’s got you so wound up?” Brian finally asked, wrapping his arms around Justin and resting his chin on Justin’s shoulder.

He could feel Justin take a steadying breath, like he wasn’t certain he wanted to admit the truth.  Brian just held him tighter, knowing touch would win over his hesitations. 

Justin brought his hands up to fold them over Brian’s.  “New York isn’t the Artist’s Utopia that Lindsay made it out to be.  I’m just...really tired. I want to go home, but I’m afraid of going home a failure after all this time.  Sure, I’m getting by, but just getting by is killing my creativity. I miss the Pitts. I miss my friends.  I miss creating Rage and watching you work until all hours of the night. I miss going out dancing. I miss back rooms and bathhouses.  I miss  _ you… _ ” Justin sighed, tipping his head forward like he was ashamed of those things.

“You never said anything when we spoke.”

“You get antsy when I mention anything other than what I want to do with your dick,” Justin fired back.

Brian couldn’t describe how the weight that had been weighing heavily in his chest eased just a hair.  It was like he could finally breathe after hours...days of holding his breath. 

“You don’t need my approval to do what you want,” Brian said, closing the distance between them.  He pulled Justin into his arms and buried his nose in Justin’s thick hair. “You never have.” 

Slowly, Justin returned the embrace, gripping Brian like he was afraid to let him go.  It reminded Brian of the months after the bashing when Justin clung to him like Brian was a life raft in the middle of a violent sea.  

“Maybe I was just hoping for support,” Justin said, running the tips of his fingers up and down Brian’s spine.  

“What do you want me to say?  I’ve already told you that I’ve made you into the best homosexual possible.  If you think you’re better off in the Pitts, then who am I to argue?” 

“That doesn’t sound anything like the Brian Kinney I know.”  Justin pulled back just enough to look Brian in the eye. His eyes clearly searching for answers that Brian wasn’t sure he had.

“You aren’t seventeen anymore.”  Brian shrugged, running his fingers through Justin’s hair and messing it up.  

Justin shook off Brian’s mischievous fingers and pressed his palm to Brian’s chest.  Justin continued to look up at him, still searching for answers. 

Brian curled his lips in, giving Justin an expectant expression.  “I didn’t drop everything to debate your ability to make grown up decisions.  It’s been weeks since I had my dick in that ass of yours. I came to collect my Christmas present since you’re so set on staying here,” Brian told him, trying to lighten things up.

Justin laughed, giving him a shove to the chest.  He shook his head, continuing to laugh as Brian closed the distance between them again.   He pulled Justin to him, capturing his lips in a heated kiss as his hands immediately went to the fraying sweater Justin had been wearing.  

Brian tugged the sweater up over Justin’s chest as they continued to kiss.  He missed this when they weren’t together. While he’d never stopped tricking—and he seriously doubted he would by choice—he missed the intimacy between Justin and himself.  

No other sexual experiences compared when it came to how close he and Justin could get in bed.  Sometimes Brian wanted nothing between himself and his partner. Sometimes he just wanted quick release—maximum pleasure with minimum bullshit.  And then, sometimes he needed to feel like he couldn’t get any closer to his partner even if he crawled inside their skin, and that’s when he dropped everything and visited Justin.  Of course, he always made Justin think it was his idea, but sometimes Brian just needed him like he needed his next breath. As frightening as that had been years ago, now it was just a part of life.

“Oh, is that why you showed up on my doorstep in the middle of a snow storm?” Justin asked, sounding like he didn’t believe it for a second.

Brian didn’t reply.  Instead, he pushed Justin across the apartment to the bedroom, stripping him of his clothing as he went.  Justin had no trouble returning the favor, and by the time they fell onto the bed, neither of them were wearing a stitch of clothing.

Justin landed on his back, immediately sitting up again and wrapping his hands around Brian’s hips.  He stroked Brian’s protruding hip bones with his thumbs.

Brian stood at the end of the bed for a moment, letting Justin take the lead.  He enjoyed watching the way Justin touched him. He enjoyed feeling Justin’s hands even more.  

“I don’t understand how you have perfect skin in the middle of the winter.  I’ve been drowning myself in moisturizer for the last month, and I’m still dry and cracked,” Justin complained, continuing to touch every inch of Brian’s skin that was within reach.

Brian laughed.  How could he not when Justin had the softest skin of anyone he’d ever met?  

Justin smiled up at him, lighting up the entire room and looking as young as he did the night they met.  

A smart remark died on Brian’s lips as Justin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Brian’s hip.  Brian reached down to cup the back of Justin’s head as he continued to kiss and lick his body. Brian played with his hair as he teased Brian.

This was the type of communication Brian was comfortable with.  The way Justin’s fingers rarely left his body for more than a second at a time told Brian that he’d been missing Brian as much as Brian had missed him.  The fact that Justin was kissing every part of him but his cock told him that Justin hadn’t forgotten that Brian hadn’t revealed the reason for his visit.  Everything was just so much clearer this way.

Tired of waiting, Brian grabbed Justin by the hair and pulled his mouth away from his body.  Justin’s expression was ravenous as he let Brian push him down onto the mattress. 

Brian followed him down, pinning him to the bed with his body and taking back control.  Justin wasted no time cradling Brian between his legs. Steady. Trusting. 

Reaching over to the side of the bed, Brian easily located the condoms and lube on the nightstand.  Justin latched onto any available skin, kissing Brian’s chest and arms. He was the best sort of distraction.

“Put it on me?” Brian asked, holding up the condom.

“Getting forgetful in your old age?  Or has it been so long that you’ve gotten the shakes?” Justin teased him, taking the condom and quickly tearing it free of the packaging.

Brian laughed again, running his fingers through Justin’s hair once more as Justin expertly rolled the condom onto his cock.  As soon as Justin was finished, Brian pushed him back down then guided his legs up to his shoulders.

“Surprised you can still get your legs up.  You’re getting on in years yourself,” Brian said, pouring some lube onto his fingers and quickly getting Justin ready for him.  

“Surprised you can get it up at all,” Justin retorted, grinning as Brian lined himself up.

“Twat,” Brian growled, pressing into Justin steadily.

They both stopped talking as Brian sank into Justin.  They gripped each other as they began to build a rhythm.  Brian let go, giving himself over to the act, the sensations, the primal need to be one with Justin.  Somehow after all these years, it was still completely raw between them.

Justin gripped his biceps, holding him tightly as Brian snapped his hips forward roughly.  Brian cupped Justin’s face, pulling him in for a hungry kiss as they continued to move in counterpoint.  

Nothing else mattered when they were like this.  Brian was completely lost in how amazing Justin’s body felt around him.  Every bit of him was attuned to Justin. 

Every hitched breath, every pleasured gasp drove Brian closer to the edge. They were a well-oiled machine, but it never felt old or stale.

Brian was panting as he gripped Justin’s hips and pulled him flush against him.  He rotated his hips savoring the way Justin writhed beneath him. Sweat covered both of their bodies as Brian kicked up the pace again.  

Justin was biting his bottom lip as Brian snapped his hips hard, and Brian couldn’t help himself.  He needed to kiss him. Leaning forward, he captured Justin’s lips, sucking that bottom lip into his mouth and nipping it gently.  Justin moaned loudly.

Brian groaned as he hitched Justin’s legs up again, creating the perfect angle.  He glanced down at where Justin stroked himself, before closing his eyes tightly.  He was right there, and with another thrust, he felt Justin start to shake beneath him.  Brian followed him over the edge, riding the waves of pleasure until his body couldn’t hold him up any longer, and he collapsed onto the bed beside Justin.

Both of them lay there panting for several minutes.  Their hands sought each other out, Justin resting his on Brian’s chest while Brian’s found Justin’s hip.  

“I’ve missed that,” Brian admitted.

“You could visit more than once every few months,” Justin retorted, though his voice was light.  He wasn’t making an accusation, and he wasn’t begging for Brian to visit. He was just stating a fact.

Justin rolled onto his side and tucked himself against Brian, letting his head rest on Brian’s chest.  It was a familiar position, and Brian found comfort in it. They fit so well together, and while Brian had avoided such things in the past, it was impossible to ignore when it came to them.

They laid together silently for a long time.  Neither of them fell asleep, but they didn’t feel the necessity to talk either.  When both of them were feeling up to it, they went for a second round, just as frantic as the first.  Brian took him from behind, practically drilling him into the bed before both of them found release.

They were both floating in that second round of post-orgasmic haze when Brian found his words.   He was spooned up behind Justin, with his arm slung over his chest holding him tightly to him.

“I thought you were making a clean break,” Brian said softly, but he lips were right beside Justin’s ear, so he knew he was heard.

Justin didn’t say anything, instead waiting for Brian to finish his thoughts.

Brian thought about his conversation with Michael and all of the doubts that had followed him since.  “You’ve been coming back less and less in the last year. I just thought...maybe you’d finally gotten fed up with my shit.  Maybe you were ready to move on…maybe you’d met someone.”

Justin continued to remain quiet even as Brian’s words trailed off.  He clasped his fingers with Brian’s over his heart, but he didn’t speak up.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Brian finally asked.

“I’m sorry.  I’m just...you thought I was leaving you, and you dropped everything and came to New York?” Justin asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”  Brian said it so softly that even their close proximity didn’t make it easy to hear.  He knew what Justin was thinking. He knew he had a history of cutting Justin loose before Justin could cut him loose.  

* * *

Justin was having trouble trusting his ears as he listened to Brian.  Rolling in his arms, he faced his partner and tried to read his expression.  They wrapped their arms around each other’s waists, holding each other close as they both sought out answers.

“You dropped everything, even your big clients and flew to the City to see me,” Justin repeated himself, utterly at a loss.

“We’re partners…” Brian said, but his voice was quiet, lacking the easy confidence he always gave off.  

Sometimes, even Justin forgot that he was always the one to leave Brian, for Ethan, for Los Angeles, for their differences, for New York.  However, it was never more clear than as Justin looked into Brian’s uncertain eyes. It was obvious Brian had believed he was losing Justin again, yet unlike in times past, he’d dropped everything and sought to fix it.

“I’m not going anywhere...but home, if the invitation still stands,” Justin told him, reaching up and running his fingers through Brian’s hair.  

Brian sighed.  “We’re turning into a pair of lesbians,” he scoffed, and it made Justin smile.  

“Maybe if we communicated outside the bedroom, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”  Justin tried to be the voice of reason, but he was met with a more powerful scoff.

“We do our best communicating in bed,” Brian insisted.

Justin shook his head, smiling.  “I wouldn’t just stop calling,” Justin promised, trying to bring the conversation back on track.

“I know.”

“But you came anyway.”

“But I came anyway.”  Brian’s tone gave nothing away, but the way he cradled Justin close did.  

“That’s just about the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

“ _Shut_ _up_.”

“I’m happy you came,” Justin said, pressing his nose into the crook of Brian’s neck.  They just laid like that for a long time. Clearly, despite how steady they’d been since Justin moved to New York, they both still had their insecurities.

“You better be.  I blew off one of Kinnetik’s top accounts for this,” Brian grumbled, but Justin didn’t fall for the deflection for a second.

“Brian Kinney gives a shit,” he whispered into Brian’s skin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brian muttered, pulling Justin even closer to him.  

They laid together until Justin felt Brian slip off to sleep.  Justin rested his head against Brian’s chest again, using him as a pillow while Brian slept peacefully.

Justin wasn’t as easily lulled into unconsciousness.  He still had a show to worry about, paintings that weren’t finishing themselves, bills that may or may not have been piling up over the last couple months.

After close to an hour of lying in the safety of Brian’s arms, Justin pulled himself out of bed and went to his canvas.  He stared at his work for a while, trying to see his vision for it. Like the last time he’d looked at it, nothing was coming to him.

Justin wondered, not for the first time, if he’d lost that spark that hard always pushed him to create in the past.  It just didn’t feel like it used to.

Putting down his brush, Justin walked over to the couch where he’d left his sketchpad.  He flipped through the pages, looking for the original concept for the stalled painting.  However, he paused as an old sketch caught his eye. It was of Brian _ ,  _ from the first time he’d visited Justin in New York _.   _

_ They’d had a marathon of sex as soon as Brian had arrived, and they’d barely left the bed for an entire day.  Except for their sojourns to the shower, but those were just as much about sex. _

_ Brian had eventually emerged from bed and given himself a tour of Justin’s place while Justin continued to sleep.  However, his absence was noted and Justin soon sought him out.  _

_ He’d found Brian standing at the window, wearing only a pair of lounge pants.  His hair had been a mess, and his back still showed a few scratches that Justin had put there accidentally.   _

_ The light caught him just right, and Justin had reached for his sketchbook.  Brian must have sensed him because he maintained his position while Justin got his supplies and began to sketch.   _

_ They hadn’t spoken while Justin worked, both lost somewhere in their own thoughts but still giving each other what they needed.  Like a sixth sense, Brian had finally moved from his position just as Justin was finishing up.  _

_ “You move all the way to New York, and you still only want to draw my cock,” Brian had said as he walked over to him and pressed his lips to Justin’s temple. _

Justin’s finger traced the sketched lines of Brian’s back.  It had been years since he’d drawn it, and its much larger recreation which hung in the bedroom, but it was still the best thing he’d created since arriving in New York.  It wasn’t just a technically perfect drawing of Brian. It evoked the pensive discontent that peeked through when no one was looking at Brian, while still capturing the softness around his mouth and eyes that was only for those he most cherished.  

Justin remembered seeing it the first night they’d met when Brian held Gus for the first time.  Justin had been lost right there in that hospital room, surrounded by a bunch of strangers. Later, he’d told Daphne that he’d seen the face of god while having sex with Brian, but it had been that moment with Gus.  Seeing just how tender Brian could be...and then later that night when Brian had been tender with him, despite being high out of his mind and owing him nothing.

Flipping the pages of the pad to the next blank page, Justin made himself comfortable and began to sketch his favorite subject from memory.  

* * *

Brian woke to find the bed empty.  It wasn’t entirely surprising given that Justin had mentioned painting late at night, but after their talk Brian had thought he might stick close.

Pulling himself out of bed, Brian rifled through Justin’s drawers for a pair of sweatpants that would fit him.  He was grateful that Justin liked to be swallowed up by his sweats, otherwise there was no hope of them sharing them.  

Brian wandered down the hall, in no real hurry, taking in the small apartment as he went.  It never changed. Brian’s decorating changed with each collection he just needed to own, while Justin still had the castoffs that Brian had insisted shipping to him when he updated his decor—not three weeks after Justin moved into his own place.  

It had been their first fight while separated.  Justin had insisted that he didn’t want Brian taking care of him, but when he’d been unable to furnish the place himself even when he’d gone to flea markets and thrift stores, he’d given in.  Justin definitely had the most nicely furnished shithole of an apartment that Brian had even been in. He was lucky that Brian went for modern and minimalist decor because Justin’s apartment couldn’t fit anything with bulk.

Stepping quietly into the living room/studio/kitchen/entryway Brian immediately saw Justin lost in his art on the couch.  Brian couldn’t count the number of times he’d found Justin in the same position in the years they’d slept/lived together.  

Brian remembered coming back from Babylon just before three to find Justin sketching on the couch.  Asking him if he’d been waiting up and just getting a shrug and some line about trouble sleeping. Now, Brian supposed it wasn’t just a line but the truth.

Justin cursed, dropping his pencil as Brian watched him.  Brian immediately knew it was the old weakness from the bashing.  Justin never mentioned the cramps and tremors anymore, but Brian wasn’t naive enough to think they’d just up and disappeared after all this time.

Moving swiftly and almost silently, Brian stepped behind Justin and took his aching hand into his own.  He was rewarded with a surprised gasp which quickly turned into a quiet hum as Brian began to work the tension out of his hand.  Justin had long since stopped trying to hold anything back from him. Maybe Brian couldn’t talk about everything, but he could make his touch say more than words ever could.

Justin shifted to let Brian get a better angle at his hand, and it brought what he’d been working on to Brian’s attention.  It was a sketch of him. It was similar to that sketch that had caused all the trouble at Justin’s first show. The one Brian still had tucked away for safekeeping.  

Justin had sketched him sprawled out on a bed, clearly just after having sex.  Even in the raw lines of the drawing, Brian could see the glisten of sweat covering his body.  Strands of hair were stuck to his forehead, and the rest of his hair was a mess of flattened sections and wild sections.  One arm was flung out over the messy sheets, and the other rested over his heart. What made the drawing stand out though was his expression.  

Brian’s expression was unguarded and open.  It was an expression he’d never seen on his own face, but he knew it as one he gave Justin when it was just the two of them.  It was an expression reserved for intimate moments when neither of them had the energy to be anything but loving.

“I thought you had work that needed to get done,” Brian said, instead of commenting on what he saw.  How could he? He couldn’t just come out and say that he felt like Justin could punch a hole right through him with little more than a number 2 pencil and his memory.  

“Needed a more inspiring subject,” Justin said, flexing his fingers in Brian’s hands.  

“I understand that my cock is inspiring, but I don’t know how it will fit with the current theme you have going with your paintings.” Brian glanced over his shoulder at the half-finished painting on the easel.  It was a dark and brooding scene, and despite Brian finding it alluring, it was nothing like what Justin had just been working on.

“I remember after I got bashed…”

Brian couldn’t help the way he tensed up.  He didn’t want to; he knew it wasn’t fair of him to make Justin hold those memories and feelings in, but Brian still couldn’t face it.  It had been years, and all it took was one word and he felt like he was right back there, in the parking garage, covered in Justin’s blood.

“...after I’d moved back in with you,” Justin continued, not letting Brian derail his thought.  Brian kept massaging his hand, unable to let go of him now that he’d brought it up. “You’d get this look when you saw me walking toward you.  You had it when I walked down Liberty Ave by myself for the first time after it happened. But you also had it when I’d walk into a room. I remember you lying in bed after we’d fucked, one of those first times I let you touch me again.  I’d gone to the bathroom afterward, and you were just lying there all sticky and spent.” Justin smiled at his memory, turning in his seat to face Brian as he spoke. “I stepped back into the bedroom, and you were just lying on your back, looking completely fucked out.  But then you looked at me, and you got that expression on your face. It just always made me feel so safe, like you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me…”

“Yeah, well clearly I fucked up,” Brian mumbled, but Justin’s free hand came up to cup his face, forcing him to meet Justin’s eyes.

“You’ve always taken care of me, even when I pushed you away.  You always make me know I’m safe,” Justin said, leaning forward to kiss Brian.

Brian didn’t mention anything about lesbians even though this was the softest conversation they’d had in ages.  He just let Justin kiss him and nuzzle him until he brought his attention back to the drawing.

“It’s just something I think about when I’m feeling lost and alone.  Thought I’d finally draw it,” he said, tilting the sketchbook up to take a good look at it.  

Brian couldn’t look at the sketch any longer.  Instead, he pressed a kiss to Justin’s temple. “I’ll leave you to your work. Don’t stay up all night.  You’re not seventeen anymore,” he said before getting to his feet and wandering back to the bedroom.

* * *

Justin didn’t know what possessed him to tell all of that to Brian.  Brian could hardly stand it when he mentioned how much Gus had grown since the last time he saw him.  He definitely had no tolerance for the sort of story Justin had just thrown at him.

Cursing to himself Justin stood up to follow Brian and...he wasn’t certain what he was going to do.  Maybe he could say lack of sleep was making him say strange things. 

Justin was halfway down the hall, and entirely panicked when Brian stepped out of the bathroom and gave him a confused look.  “I thought you were going to keep working…”

“I’m sorry.”

Brian’s expression didn’t get any less confused.

“For what?”

Justin paused.  

Brian shook his head and took him by the shoulders.  “Don’t get dramatic. I’m exhausted. I didn’t come to distract you from your work, so go ahead and work.  You didn’t do anything wrong. The portrait is stunning.”

“Right.” The word was drawn out, slightly skeptical.

“If you want to come back to bed, we can even try to recreate it to give you a better image to work with.”

Justin smiled, shaking his head at Brian’s antics.  “I really want to finish it up, but I’ll come to bed soon.”

“I’ll be here,” Brian promised, kissing Justin softly.  

Justin smiled at him, trying to bite his tongue but he couldn’t hold himself back.  “You always are,” he said, turning to walk back to the living room.


	2. Chapter 2

“Everything’s fine, Mikey.  He’s just stressed about his upcoming show,” Brian told his best friend through the phone.

“Then why are you staying in New York for the holidays?  Isn’t it bad enough that he’s missing them, but now you have to too?” Michael demanded.

Brian sighed.  He knew this was going to the reaction he faced from Michael when he told him the news.  That’s specifically why he waited until Justin wasn’t around to make the call. Justin was feeling bad enough, and Brian didn’t want him to feel like people blamed him for Brian staying with him instead of going home.  Frankly, Brian didn’t give a fuck what the gang thought because it wasn’t going to change his mind. Justin needed him here even if he wouldn’t admit it, so he would stay.

“I’m staying because I want to, Mikey.  It’s as simple as that,” Brian retorted, knowing that no amount of explanation would really placate Michael right now.

“What about your family?  What about Gus? What’s he going to think when you aren’t here for Christmas?” Michael hit right back.  

Brian didn’t say that Justin was family.  He may have come a long way over the years, but some things were still just too much for him.  

“Gus is being raised Jewish, Mikey.  I already sent Mel and Linz his gifts, and he’ll see me for a week in February, and probably a weekend in between now and then.”  Brian pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited for Michael’s next argument.

It wasn’t long coming.

“You know how Ma feels about Christmas.”

Brian sighed, taking a sip of bourbon as he sat on Justin’s couch—or the couch Brian donated to him when he redecorated.  He had work he could be doing, but he wanted to get this over with. 

“Yes, I am aware of your mother’s obsession with Christmas especially since Vic…” Brian paused, no wanting to actually come out and say it.  He still felt regret about the night Vic died. “Justin needs me, Mikey. I’m not going to change my mind. Now, enjoy the holidays with your family.  You’ll hardly notice I’m not there. In fact, I bet everyone will have a fabulous time without me there to ruin everything.”

“Brian.”

“I’ve got to go, Mikey.  I’ve got a conference call with a client in a few minutes.   Talk to you soon,” Brian said before hanging up. 

Brian tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling.  He hadn’t even been in New York for 24 hours, and he’d already had to deal with three queen-outs including his own.  He was getting too old for this shit. Not too old for tricking and partying every night, but the drama really needed to tone it down.

Not that Justin’s queening out was over the top these days.  It didn’t need to be. Brian was so tuned into Justin’s needs and well-being that his world shifted on its axis when Justin stubbed his toe these days.  It was ridiculous, and it probably wasn’t any more healthy that his hands off approach in the past, but it was what it was.

Justin had been at his studio all day.  He’d come back to bed just before dawn, and they’d had another round of sex before they both passed out for a couple hours.  Then they shared a shower before Justin had informed him that he had to get to his studio while he was feeling inspired. 

Brian hadn’t protested.  He wasn’t in the City to harass Justin or demand attention.  He came because he was worried about him—about them. Yes, he was mature enough to freely admit that these days.  With that sorted though, he was happy to let Justin do what he needed to. He had no intention of leaving any time soon, but he certainly didn’t need Justin to entertain him.

Opening up his laptop, Brian settled in to get some of his own work done while Justin was off being a genius.  

* * *

Justin was on a roll.  Since he’d started sketching Brian in the middle of the night, he hadn’t been able to push aside the need to create.  He’d worked for hours before crawling back into bed, more because Brian deserved a couple of rounds for all the trouble he’d gone through than because Justin had any intention of sleeping.  

Justin had laid in bed thinking for close to three hours with his head pillowed on Brian’s chest.  As far as places to think went, it was probably one of his favorites. People tended to think Brian was the insomniac between the two of them, but after a few—or more than a few—rounds of sex Brian tended to drop right into Morpheus’ arms.  Justin was often the one who laid there either watching Brian sleep or sketching. 

Brian was completely aware of it.  In the beginning, he would sometimes try to stay awake and keep Justin company, but eventually he caught on that Justin didn’t expect or want him to.  Justin didn’t mind the time to think, and he certainly didn’t mind that the hours before dawn were often inspiring.

So, it wasn’t anything new.  What had been new until last night was the lack of creativity that his insomnia had brought for weeks.  Before Brian showed up, Justin had just laid in bed for weeks wishing he could find something inspiring to think about or plan.  Instead, he’d just lost sleep and felt even less inspired come morning.

Now though, he felt the spark, and it felt like it was ready to start a wildfire inside of him.  There was something in there that needed to come out, and it wouldn’t just be satisfied with a portrait of Brian.  

As it was, he’d already filled up a quarter of a sketchpad since he’d arrived at the studio that morning.  The thing about sketching Brian was that he’d done it so many times that he didn’t need Brian there to model.  He knew Brian’s proportions by memory. He knew how they looked. He knew how they felt. He knew how they shifted when he stretched, crouched, ran, sat, you name it.  Justin could draw a technically perfect Brian from memory without ever once glancing at a reference or the man himself. 

That wasn’t what this was about though.  Justin wasn’t drawing Brian the man. He wasn’t drawing Brian’s hands or his eyes.  Justin wasn’t drawing Brian at all. He was drawing the place inside of himself that Brian had discovered or created over the years. 

It was a room that was unlocked with a look, a caress, a smile.  It was a place that no one else had ever managed to locate, and certainly no one else had ever gained access to.  Even when they weren’t together, this little space remained, locked tight and completely safe from outsiders. 

Ethan may have promised him the world, but even the world couldn’t fill that space.  Cody may have showed Justin how to fight back, but even a gun tucked into his waistband could promise him safety the way that space could.

Rave reviews, success, independence none of it ever quite penetrated deep enough to touch that space.  

The truth was that Justin had been taught that all of those things were fleeting.  People’s praise would fade as soon as they discovered the next big thing. Success was always only one slip from being snatched away.  Independence was one swing of a baseball bat from being just a memory.

It always came back to the bashing.  One senseless act, and Justin’s entire life took an unexpected detour, and though he was back on the main road again, he still carried the baggage he’d picked up in the back seat.

Justin didn’t know if the bashing had opened up that space inside of him, but it certainly made Justin realize just how tenuous everything in life was.

Everything except Brian because, despite how much Brian pushed and acted out, there was never a moment that Justin could recall that Brian didn’t protect him from harm.  So maybe the bashing didn’t create the space, but instead tore the door off the room that Brian had already been living in, so Justin was aware of him in there.

It wasn’t love.  Love, like everything else, was tenuous and fragile.  

Brian didn’t need to love Justin to protect him.  He didn’t need Justin’s love or even his respect to remain that impenetrable, indestructible space within Justin.

Maybe because it wasn’t Brian after all.  Brian was just the key to unlock the part of Justin that could survive anything.  Brian was just the one who could always remind him that as much as anything else was fleeting, so too was suffering and he’d survive.  

All it took was a glance, a touch, and smirk.

So, Justin sketched and painted, and he lost track of everything but the frenzy of emotions that had somehow escaped that space inside of him.

* * *

Brian carried the Thai food that he’d picked up on the way to Justin’s studio.  The service elevator in the building was worse than the one at the loft, and Brian always found himself wondering if this would be the time he got stuck in it, and they’d find him days later covered in his own come—because if he was trapped, he was definitely going to enjoy himself.  He never worried when he rode it with Justin, but sometimes he worried about whether he’d brought enough condoms.

The elevator made it up to the floor that Justin’s studio was on, and Brian stepped off like he hadn’t just been considering how he’d survive possibly days trapped in it.  He walked down the hall to Justin’s door and let himself in with the key that Justin probably shouldn’t have given to him, considering it wasn’t his space alone.

As soon as he stepped inside, he saw Justin across the wide open space.  He was seated on one of the chairs that Brian had given him which hadn’t fit in his apartment.  He had his sketchpad propped on his lap, and he was lost in his work.

“All work and no play, Sunshine,” Brian said to announce himself.  “Or in this case, no food.”

Justin’s head snapped up, and he quickly closed his pad.  Brian frowned slightly at the reaction, but he didn’t say anything about it.  Sometimes Justin liked to keep his work a surprise, even if he currently looked a bit sheepish about it.

“Shit, what time is it?” Justin asked, looking around himself like he hadn’t noticed that the sun had set over an hour ago.

“Clearly, it’s time to take a break and eat something,” Brian told him, not actually telling him the time.  Justin had a watch and a phone. He didn’t need Brian to spoon feed him.

“What’s for dinner?” Justin asked, getting up and crossing the studio to kiss Brian.  

Brian accepted Justin’s kiss, and he quickly deepened it.  He was very tempted to put off dinner for little while in favor of fucking, but Justin’s stomach decided to growl at the moment.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Brian asked, pulling back and handing Justin the bag full of takeout.

Justin ducked his head, clearly to hide his blush.  “I was distracted.”

“I used to be the only thing that could distract you from your stomach,” Brian teased him, but Justin only looked guilter at that.  That was strange.

“I just really got on a roll with work, and since I have so much ground to make up I just let it flow.”

“You don’t need to defend yourself,” Brian promised, kissing Justin’s temple as he walked past him to lay out the blanket he’d brought, so they could have a picnic in the studio.  Since the studio didn’t have much furniture other than the chair, Brian figured picnic would just be easier. It had nothing to do with romance.

Justin lit up as Brian spread the blanket out, clearly not getting the no-romance memo.  Brian didn’t bother to correct his thinking. 

As soon as the blanket was down, Justin started unpacking their dinner, and when he was done he handed Brian a pair of chopsticks before sinking down into Brian’s lap.

Brian laughed.  “This isn’t exactly a position conducive to eating our meals, is it?”

“What if I want an appetizer?”

“With the noise your stomach was making, I’m actually a little concerned that you might take a bite out of me,” Brian said, rolling until Justin was beneath him.

Justin laughed, reaching down to tickle Brian.  Brian expertly rolled out of his reach, grabbing his container of food as he went.  Justin didn’t dare attack him while holding food. Brian would absolutely have a meltdown if Justin caused him to get Pad Thai on his Armani sweater.  It didn’t matter that Brian had half a dozen on them. 

“What did you do all day?” Justin asked as he sat up and opened his own meal.  He leaned in and gave Brian a peck on the cheek when he saw what Brian had ordered him.  

Brian knew what to order based on Justin’s mood, and ‘creative frenzy’ had its own menu.  

“Conference calls mostly.  I brought plenty of work with me.  I wasn’t that desperate when I left,” Brian assured him.

“You really don’t have to stay for the holidays.  I have a feeling I’m going to be holed up in my studio from now until they arrive to collect my pieces.”  Justin offered him the out, but Brian knew it was just words. Justin knew Brian wasn’t going anywhere.

They chatted while they ate, both finding it easy to make conversation despite the uncertainties they had faced the night before.

When they finished eating, Brian moved to clean up, but Justin rolled on top of him.  “What’s the hurry?”

Brian smirked.  “No hurry, but I’d rather not roll around in left over curry while I’m fucking you.”

Justin smiled, still not letting Brian up.  “Where’s your sense of adventure, or did you lose that in your old age?”

Brian snorted, using his superior strength to roll Justin beneath him.  The food was quickly forgotten, and neither of them ended up spilling the remains as Brian pinned Justin to the floor and rimmed him until Justin came all over himself.

* * *

Justin let Brian take him ho me after dinner.  He could’ve stayed later to work, but the lack of sleep combined with the rounds of sex were catching up with him.  So, he didn’t even protest when Brian called them a cab instead of walking the few blocks to Justin’s apartment. He was half asleep by the time they arrived despite the brevity of the trip.

Brian guided him upstairs, and he stripped Justin down before tucking him into bed, then he just curled up behind Justin and reached around to massage Justin’s aching hand.  

“How did you get so good at this?” Justin asked, feeling loopy from how tired he was.

“I know what makes you feel good.  You aren’t particularly difficult to decipher, Sunshine.”  Brian kept working the tension out of Justin’s hand while he peppered kisses along his shoulders.

Justin smiled in spite of Brian’s cocky answer.  There was really no point in denying Brian’s words.  Justin had always been straightforward about what he wanted, and Brian was pretty good at filling in the gaps when he chose to.

“You mean it’s not just the Kinney charm that gets you by?” Justin teased him, knowing very well that the Kinney charm had worn off years ago.  Justin was under no illusions as to Brian’s character, and he certainly wouldn’t have been satisfied with just phenomenal sex for this long.

Justin could feel Brian’s smile against his skin, but it quickly turned into a bite to his shoulder.  He let himself be rolled onto his back as Brian pinned him to the mattress.

Brian didn’t bother with a witty retort, opting instead to kiss his way down Justin’s body, focusing his efforts on the places he knew Justin responded most.  For his part, Justin was incapable of much more than moaning and encouraging Brian to continue making his point.

Justin had all but forgotten the ache in his hand by the time Brian had worked his way down to blowing him.  Justin was completely focused on the way Brian’s lips wrapped around his cock and precisely how far he took it into his mouth.  

Brian always managed to make Justin feel like the center of the universe when his lips were on him.  It didn’t matter if they were sequestered away or if they were in the middle of an orgy. Brian just had a way of reducing the universe down to their points of connection.  And yet, somehow the universe never felt so vast and awe inspiring as when Brian’s mouth was on him.

* * *

Brian woke with a start as Justin sat up and shuffled to the edge of the bed.  He glared at the clock to see what ungodly time Justin was crawling out of bed this time, and he scoffed when it saw it was barely past five in the morning.

“You better be getting up to take a piss because it is too early to be out of bed for anything else...including your art.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep anymore, and I have a lot of painting to get done.”

“You’re going to get a lot less done if you work yourself to exhaustion.”

“I’ll be fine,  _ mother _ ,” Justin fired back, pulling on a pair of pants as he stood next to the bed.  

Brian rolled to the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around Justin’s waist, dragging him back onto the bed.  “Don’t make yourself sick. I didn’t come here to play nursemaid.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Justin promised, stretching so that he could place a kiss on Brian’s lips.

Brian wasn’t really reassured, but he let Justin get up again and get dressed.  There weren’t locks on their doors, and that extended to allowing each other to take the professional steps they needed to without comment.  This was Justin’s livelihood, and Brian wasn’t going to tell him how to go about it. He certainly would never hold him back from it.

“Try to remember to eat today,” Brian called as Justin walked out of the bedroom.

“I won’t need to, you’ll probably send at least three delivery boys before dinner time.”  Justin poked his head back into the room smiling at Brian.

“Delivery boys are not the type of protein I want you to make sure you’re eating.”

“You are welcome to come supervise, so long as you promise not to distract me,” Justin said, though the way he bit his lip said he’d rather Brian didn’t take him up on the offer.

“Just pack a few snacks, Sunshine.  I’ve got work to do while I’m here.”

“Of course, forgive me for thinking you actually came here to visit your boyfriend.”

“I don’t know what gave you that idea.”

“I can’t imagine,” Justin retorted, sticking his tongue in his cheek before blowing Brian a kiss and walking out.

Brian sighed before rolling over and trying to get a few more hours of sleep.

* * *

Justin was deep in thought, eyeing his color pallet and the canvas he was working on.  His vision was definitely getting a little blurry, but he wanted to finish this up.

Two strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Justin nearly dropped what he was holding in his surprise.

“What did I tell you about remembering to eat?” Brian whispered in his ear, nibbling the lobe.  

“What are you doing here?” Justin asked, turning in Brian’s arms and trying to block the portrait he was working on from Brian’s view.

“You haven’t been home in two days.  Was starting to wonder if you’d run off and joined some artists’ commune or something.”  Brian ran his fingers through Justin’s hair, messing up the unwashed strands.

“I got into it,” Justin apologized, ducking his head and staring at the small space between them.  Brian was dressed impeccably as always, and Justin covered in paint stains.

Brian tipped his chin up with his index finger, forcing Justin to look him in the eye.  “That painting looks a lot like me, and nothing like the concept I saw in your apartment.”  His voice was level, and nothing about it told Justin that he was being judged. However, there was a hint of concern in its tenor.

“I may have altered the focus of my work,” Justin admitted, giving Brian a smile that probably bordered on a grimace.

“Altered the focus?  With three weeks until previews?  Are you high?”

“Three weeks to finish ten paintings when I’m feeling inspired isn’t any more taxing than three weeks to finish five paintings when I can’t even put brush to canvas.”  Justin clung to Brian’s biceps, hoping that Brian wouldn’t demand to see what he’d created so far.

“How far along are you?”

“I’ve gotten four done in the last few days.  They still need the details finished up, but I’m giving the oils time.”

“Right.  Well, let’s see this…”

“Actually…”  Justin hedged, not wanting to get into it with Brian right now.  

“Actually?” Brian leaned forward until their were eye to eye.  Justin could see the fascinating mix of colors that made up Brian’s eyes, and it took his breath away.

“Actually, I would prefer to show you when all of the pieces are finished...or close to finished.  I...I’m not sure how to explain the concept without all of the pieces. It’s a sum of its parts sort of thing…” Justin could feel himself starting to ramble, but Brian placed a finger to his lips before his tongue could get away from him.

“If that’s what you want, fine, but you’re coming home with me tonight.  I didn’t sit through Michael, and Lindsay, and Debbie’s whining about us missing the holidays just to spend it alone in your sad apartment.  Now, finish up your masterpiece and let’s get going.”

“Shit, it’s Christmas?” Justin cringed.  He hadn’t meant to miss it. He’d just gotten so lost in his work.

“Yeah, it’s Christmas.  Don’t get your undies in a twist.  Your gift isn’t time sensitive,” Brian assured him, kissing him softly and burying his fingers in his hair.

Justin kissed Brian right back, letting himself get lost in his partner.  Despite spending the last forty-eight hours in near constant company of Brian’s form on canvas, there was truly nothing that compared to the real thing.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around…”

“Apologies are bullshit...especially if they aren’t necessary.  Now, let’s get going before the catering gets cold,” Brian said, pecking Justin’s cheek before stepping away from him.  

Justin got himself together as fast as he could, allowing Brian to help him clean the brushes that he needed to.  Justin was always surprised by how little Brian cared about getting his hands dirty. It was only after years of being together that Justin had realized it had more to do with helping Justin or being close to him than to do with the paint itself.

When the studio was put back to rights, Justin slipped under Brian’s arm and let himself be led out of the building. 

* * *

Brian didn’t even have to tell Justin that he needed a shower when they got back to the apartment.  The first thing Justin did was walking to the bathroom and turn on the water. Brian would’ve joined him if there had been room in the miniscule shower cubicle.  

Instead of joining Justin, Brian set about heating up the food he’d ordered for them.  The living room was already set up with cushions and pillows, and he brought the food out plate by plate.

By the time Justin stepped into the living room in a pair of threadbare sweatpants and a t-shirt covered in paint stains and holes, Brian had their dinner all set out.  He’d even lit the many candles that Justin had sitting on various surfaces.

“This is all very romantic,” Justin commented, nibbling the side of his thumb as he looked around.

“I’ve been bored out of my mind for two days.  I needed something to do,” Brian told him, opening his arms for Justin to join him.

Justin smiled, crossing the room and sinking onto the massive cushion and into Brian’s arms.  Brian kissed him deeply before Justin settled between his legs with his back to Brian’s chest.

“What are we having?”

“Thai.  What else?”

Justin turned his head and kissed Brian’s cheek as he smiled at him.  “You realize that this is New York, and the Thai place isn’t the only place open on Christmas?”

“Why mess with tradition?” Brian retorted.

“I suppose there is something to that.”

Brian and Justin fed each other as they sat curled together.  It was quiet and relaxing, and there was nothing to really mark it as a holiday other than the date on the calendar.  Neither of them were particularly big on gifts. Brian would bring Justin things when he visited, and Justin would sometimes send little gifts when he saw something that made him think of Brian.  However, neither of them felt obligated to exchange gifts for the holidays, though they always made the effort for the family’s sake when they went to Deb’s. 

After the first year Justin had spent in New York, they hadn’t given each other anything during the gift exchange at Deb’s, and for three weeks they’d both had to deal with everyone’s concern over them possibly breaking up.  Now that they were alone, there was no need for pretense, and Brian found himself enjoying how low key everything was. Justin was working himself ragged, but Brian didn’t mind making sure he was taken care of. Justin had certainly done the same for him when he’d had cancer.

“I want to show you something,” Justin said, long after they’d finished eating, and they were just lying in each others arms while they watched classic movies.  Brian wasn’t entirely surprised that Justin couldn’t make it through all of  _ Little Shop Around the Corner _ .  Old movies had never really been his thing.

“Is it your dick?” Brian asked, letting his fingers roam down Justin’s chest to the waistband of his sweats.

Justin laughed, but he swatted Brian’s fingers away.  “No, it’s not my dick, which you have seen countless times.”

“At my age, we start to forget things.  You should probably show me again”

“Shut up,” Justin said, smacking Brian on the chest as he got to his feet.

“Are you going to strip for me?”  Brian asked cheekily. There was a subdued aura about Justin, and he didn’t particularly like it.  It was as though Justin was afraid of something.

“Just sit there and wait,” Justin ordered, walking down the hall to the bedroom and coming back with the sketchpad he’d brought back from the studio.

Justin sat back down and opened to the portrait he’d sketched the other night.

“You wanted to show me my own dick?  I may be getting older, but I do still know what my own dick looks like,” Brian teased him as he handed Brian the pad.

“It’s the concept for my new collection,” Justin sad, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt nervously.

Brian leaned in and kissed his cheek.  “I thought you didn’t want me to see it until it’s finished.”

“I changed my mind.  I’m not sure I can finish it if I don’t have your support.”  Justin faced him, looking more nervous than Brian had ever seen him.

“At the expense of sounding like a lesbian, you know you always have my support,” Brian assured him, settling the pad in his lap and really looking at the portrait of himself.  “And have I ever not supported you painting my dick?”

“It’s not your dick I’m worried about, turn the page.”

Brian frowned, but he followed Justin’s order and found a sketch of their hands together.  Brian’s were massaging the tension out of Justin’s as he’d done many times over the last few days.

“I still don’t see why I’d object…”

“Keep going.”

Brian flipped through the pages until he got to a very busy sketch.  It was obvious that the concept was for a different medium, with the pencil not doing it justice.  However, the concept was unmistakable. Brian sucked in a breath and stared at the image before him.  Even in its rudimentary phase, it still hit him like a ton of bricks.

His pulse hammered in his chest as he studied the sketch, unable to tear his eyes away from the confident lines.  

“Well fuck…” Brian trailed off, dropping the pad and pushing himself to his feet.  He shoved his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth across the living room. 

Brian could see Justin watching him with a growing look of despair, but he couldn’t stop moving to ease his fears.  Continuing to curse under his breath, Brian tried to get a hold of his emotions.

He was suddenly overcome with the memory of standing in the middle of the loft while Daphne put on the music that had been played at prom, while Brian tried to get Justin to dance him with him.  Justin had still been a bit unsteady, and it had been nothing like prom night, but Brian remembered how shy and bright Justin’s smile had been when he realized they’d danced and kissed in front of everyone.

It had been heartbreaking that Justin couldn’t remember it, but Brian would never give up the moment Justin realized it had happened even if he couldn’t remember it.  No one had ever looked at Brian with so much raw hope, not even Michael.

Yet Brian had failed him the night of prom, and he’d been failing him ever since with his own inability to face what had happened.  In doing so, never letting Justin really face it either.

Taking one last steadying breath, Brian turned on his heel and walked back to the cushion.  Justin had nearly chewed his bottom lip raw by the time Brian collapsed in from of him, and Brian immediately soothed the skin with the pad of his thumb.

“I can go back to my old concept…” Justin promised, sounding completely desperate.

Brian just shook his head solemnly.

* * *

This was it.  This was the moment Brian decided he couldn’t do this anymore.  Justin had been afraid this moment would come for years. Despite how far they’d come, Brian still had hard limits, and Justin had finally blown right past them.  There was no coming back now.

“You can’t,” Brian said, only further reinforcing Justin’s fears.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…” Justin’s voice cut out as he looked at the sketch in question.  He felt completely helpless as he looked at the concept. It was very much a reflection of his darkest feelings, and he couldn’t rightly apologize for it, even to Brian.  Even if it meant losing something he held so dearly. “It’s not what it looks like…”

“Justin...Justin,  _ stop _ .”  Brian’s voice brooked no argument despite how gentle it was.  He held Justin’s wrists, cradling them to his chest.

Looking up into Brian’s eyes, Justin felt his breath catch.  

“I just wasn’t expecting it...I’m not used to facing it,” Brian told him, letting go of one of Justin’s wrists and bringing his hand up to cradle his cheek.  “I still support whatever art you want to make.”

“Even if…”

“Yeah, even if.  Now let’s go to bed because I haven’t gotten to give you your present yet,” Brian assured him, stroking his cheek gently.

“You don’t want to see the other sketches?” Justin asked, glancing down at his pad and feeling the tightness in his chest ease slightly.  

“Not tonight.  You were right; I want to see the collection when it’s finished, see it exactly as you envision it.”  Brian rose to his feet and helped Justin to his as well.

Justin smiled at him as Brian pulled him down the hall to the bedroom.  Brian was all business as he gently eased him down onto the bed and slowly stripped him out of his sweatpants, dragging them down his legs and following their descent with feather-light kisses.  

Burying his fingers in Brian’s hair, Justin tried to will his heart to stop speeding; however, Brian’s lips set it racing for a completely different reason.  One that Justin could no more easily ignore.

Brian worked his way back up Justin’s body, kissing every inch of flesh his lips could find.  He trailed his tongue across Justin’s belly as he shoved the ratty t-shirt up and over his head.  Then he pinned Justin to the bed, kissing his chest and shoulders until Justin could hardly focus.

“Brian…”  Justin wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, but Brian moved up until he was kissing the words right out of Justin’s mouth.  His tongue was insistent as he delved into Justin’s mouth.

“Roll over,” Brian encouraged him, sliding off of Justin long enough to remove his own clothes.

Justin did as he was told, rolling onto his stomach and waiting for Brian to come back.  However, Brian pulled him onto his side, pressing their bodies together. Justin could feel Brian’s cock nestled against his ass, but it was the possessive way that Brian wrapped his arm around his stomach that set his body on fire.

Brian pressed a condom into his hand and continued to touch Justin all over while Justin tore it open.  They didn’t speak as they rolled together until Justin could easily roll it onto Brian’s cock, before rolling back into their previous position.

Justin was overcome as Brian made sure he was ready for him before easing in.  His breathing sped up as Brian slowly pushed into him, stroking his hip as he held him steady.  Justin always went back to the first time whenever Brian took things slow, even though he knew Brian had another moment in mind as he took Justin from behind.

It was all about trust as they slowly moved together, holding onto each other like they’d stay afloat if only they never let go of each other.  The physical pleasure was almost secondary to the mental peace their union brought. 

Maybe it was all a little too sentimental, but Justin loved that Brian gave him these moments just as much as he gave him the frantic passion they were known for.  

Brian pressed a kiss to Justin’s shoulder as he rocked his hips particularly deeply, and Justin reached back to cradle the back of Brian’s head.  He wasn’t sure they could get any closer, and his entire body was alight with the pleasure of that closeness.

Neither of them pushed for things to end quickly, and they rocked together in perfect synch for a long time, enjoying each other’s bodies.  When Justin finally came, it was with Brian’s breath panting in his ear and his arm wrapped firmly around his waist. Brian wasn’t far behind, clinging to Justin as his own orgasm rocked through him.

They laid together for a long time, covered in sweat and sticking to each other and the sheets, but neither of them really cared.

“Are you sure you don’t have a problem with the concept?” Justin asked long after the sweat had cooled on their skin.  Brian’s arm was still wrapped around him, and his thumb stroked lazily at Justin’s belly.

“Who am I to deny genius?” Brian asked, kissing the shell of Justin’s ear.

“You’re my partner…”

“Stop second guessing yourself.  It’s a good concept, and you won’t hear any complaints from me...just maybe next time explain it to me before you spring a picture on me,” Brian told him.

“Right, says the man who showed up on my doorstep unannounced because he was afraid to ask me if something was wrong.”  Justin rolled over in Brian’s arms and wrapped his hand around Brian’s hip possessively. 

“Twat.”  Despite his words, Brian leaned in to kiss him softly.


	3. Chapter 3

Jennifer stepped into the gallery, shivering from the chill of the wind blowing through the city.  She’d been to the gallery once before, for one of Justin’s previous shows, but the quaint gallery always gave her pause.  Despite the open plan and the stark walls—save for the hanging artwork—the place always seemed warm and welcoming. 

Brian was already there, looking as impeccably dressed as ever.  Jennifer couldn’t name the designer by sight, but she knew the slim-fitted suit had to be ridiculously expensive.  Brian would settle for nothing but the best. 

He was indisposed at the moment, standing beside a visitor and chatting easily.  Jennifer smiled to herself as the woman speaking to him clutched his forearm as she spoke.  Brian weathered it like a pro, giving her all of his attention while she went on about something or other.  However, when he spotted Jennifer, he politely excused himself.

“Mother Taylor,” Brian said, greeting her with a kiss to the cheek.

Jennifer tried to fight the smile that title brought.  Brian always tried to make a joke of it, but she could clearly see the changes in the man.  He may not have married her son, but she no longer had any doubts that that is precisely how Brian viewed the relationship.

“How was your flight?” Jennifer asked, assuming Brian had flown in that morning as had been his original intention.  She didn’t know how he juggled running an ever-expanding business while flying back and forth to see Justin regularly.  Brian did it without complaint though.

“It was awful, but I’ve been here since just before Christmas, so I’ve since recovered,” Brian said, taking a sip of his drink afterward.  His other hand tapped restlessly against the glass, making the wine swish.

Jennifer knew her expression had to be one of shock, but that had to be at least three weeks. She couldn’t really imagine Brian taking that much time off unless something was wrong.  Was he sick? Was Justin? “Congratulations on the overdue vacation,” Jennifer said, not knowing how else to approach it. 

“Don’t fret, Mother Taylor.  No one is dying, and I didn’t exactly take time off.  I simply worked remotely. Justin’s living room has so many uses,” he assured her as he took her by the arm and guided her to the bar.

“Why were you working remotely?”

“I couldn’t have our dear Sunshine all alone for the holidays, could I?  How was I supposed to collect on making Santa’s good list this year, if I didn’t have Justin to deliver all of the gifts I’d asked Santa for?”

Jennifer almost choked on her own tongue at Brian’s very tongue-in-cheek reply.  “It was very sweet of you to visit Justin for the holidays, Brian. I’m certain he appreciated it.”

Brian smiled tightly at her, probably holding back some wildly inappropriate remark.  “Don’t give me too much credit. The visit was overdue, but Justin will speak to you about  _ that  _ later,” he said, collecting a glass of wine for both of them from the bartender.  

Before Jennifer could reply, Justin found them.  He immediately engulfed her in a hug before slipping under Brian’s waiting arm.  Justin’s face was lit with an unwavering smile, and he was bouncing with excitement.  

“Everything going well?” Jennifer asked.  The last time she’d spoken to Justin, he’d seemed tired and uncertain about everything.  He hadn’t answered on Christmas, but she’d assumed he was lost in the process. Brian had texted her and assured her they’d spoken.

“I just spoke with a critic who seemed to genuinely love the theme I went with for this showing.  And everyone’s feedback has been very positive,” Justin told her, looking up at Brian and sharing an intimate smile with him.  His hand rested on Brian’s chest, only adding to the intimacy of the moment.

“That’s wonderful, darling.  I’m so proud of you. Now, where can I see these masterpieces?”

Justin actually blushed when she asked to see his paintings.  He wasn’t often shy about his art, especially since he’d come out.  Brian’s expression, on the other hand, was that of the cat that caught the canary.  Clearly, she was missing something.

“You didn’t pull a Georgia O’Keefe but with dicks, did you?” she asked, hoping his work wasn’t going to make her blush.  She’d be proud either way, but she would love to be prepared ahead of time.

“ _ Mom _ ,” Justin whined even as Brian burst out laughing.

“I think your mother is onto something there, Sunshine.”

“ _ Shut up _ .  Come on, Mom,” Justin said, stepping away from Brian and taking her arm instead.

“No, no.  You need to socialize with all of these posh New York art types.  I will escort Jennifer,” Brian said, easily guiding her away from her son.

Justin gave him an exasperated look at first, but it quickly turned into resignation.  “You’re right...I’m sorry, mom. We’ll catch up over dinner,” he promised.

“Don’t worry about it, honey.  We’re here to support you,” she said, kissing his cheek before letting Brian guide her away.  “What was all of that about, Brian?” 

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks, but he’s fine,” Brian said, easing her worries.  

Jennifer was prevented from questioning him further when they rounded one of the partition walls, and she immediately spotted Justin’s work.  

“Oh…” she said, bringing her hand up to her mouth.

The first thing she recognized as Justin’s was Brian.  There he was larger than life on an open wall, staring out at the audience with an expression she could only label as adoration.  Even adoration wasn’t quite right as it was somehow something even more.

“Oh my,” Jennifer mumbled, completely at a loss for words.  She tugged Brian along, wanting to get a closer look at the stunning portrait.

“He was nervous because it’s not his usual, abstract sort of art,” Brian explained, guiding them through the crowd of people paused near Justin’s display.  

“It’s breathtaking,” Jennifer finally said, stopping directly in front of the painting.  

“It was hell on his hand,” Brian replied, clearly avoiding any and all emotional ramifications of the portrait.

“This isn’t a recent...you don’t…” Jennifer wasn’t sure how to say what she meant without offending Brian.

“I don’t look that young anymore?” he said for her.  He didn’t sound nearly as upset as she might have thought.  Everyone was always so critical of Brian’s fear of growing old, but Brian didn’t seem particularly affected by the march of time.  He just seemed proud of Justin.

“Forgive me, but no.”

“He said it’s a memory from after…” he trailed off, but Jennifer knew exactly what he was referring to, and it only compounded the emotions she was feeling.  “Anyway, he just couldn’t resist drawing my dick again.”

“ _ Stop it _ .”  Jennifer laughed, slapping Brian gently on the chest.  “I’ve never seen something so tender.”

Brian groaned, but he pulled her along.  “Just wait. There’s more,” he promised, guiding her down the wall to another of Justin’s pieces.  

This one depicted three hands.  One of them was twisted and clearly showed the pain the person must have felt in it, while the other two hands cradled it, fingers pressing into it to relieve the pain.  Once again, Jennifer had no trouble know exactly who those hands belonged to. 

A third painting showed two bodies intertwined, with focus given to the way the larger held the smaller like it was something precious.  

“They’re all so...I guess I’m just used to his pieces being angrier,” Jennifer said, looking from one piece to the next then back again.

Brian shrugged.  “I don’t know what happened.  I arrived a couple days before Christmas, and found him sketching me that night.  The next day he left for his studio and got so lost in the process that I had to bring him meals or he’d forget to eat.”

“Which is why you stayed for three weeks,” Jennifer said knowingly.  How they’d all believed Brian looked out for no one but himself was hard to understand the more she got to know him.

“You know how Justin eats.  With his metabolism, he would’ve wasted away in a matter of days,” Brian insisted.

Jennifer laughed again, enjoying Brian’s antics for what they were: a distraction from how ridiculously proud he was of Justin.

“Thank you for taking care of my son, Brian,” Jennifer told him, placing her hand on his.  She knew he’d understand that she wasn’t just speaking about his most recent visit.

Brian rolled his eyes, but he pulled her in for a hug.  

* * *

Justin tried not to let his nerves get the better of him, but he couldn’t help watching Brian lead his mother to his section of the show.  His art was always an expression of his feelings, thoughts, fears. However, nothing had ever been this telling of who he was, and he was afraid that people wouldn’t get it because it wasn’t like most of his art. He had still included abstract elements, and touches of his preferred styles because they were very much a part of who he was as an artist, but as a whole it was a risk for him.

“Mr. Taylor?” a woman a little older than himself asked, breaking him away from his thoughts.

“That’s me.” He smiled at her, holding out his hand.  He cringed when he noticed he still had some paint stains on his fingers.  Brian would have something undoubtedly caustic to say if he saw.

“Megan Clarkson,” she introduced herself, shaking his hand politely.  “Impressive work you’ve presented here. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions for my publication?”

“Sure,” Justin agreed, following Brian out of the corner of his eye as he guided Jennifer to the other side of the partition, where the remainder of Justin’s paintings were displayed.  He bit at his thumbnail before giving his full attention to Megan. “What would you like to ask?”

She smiled warmly at him.  “I’ve seen a few of your shows, Mr. Taylor.  I’m interested in how this is a deviation from your usual aesthetic.”

“That wasn’t a question,” he noted, smiling so as not to seem like he was avoiding an answer.  

“I suppose not.  What prompted this change? Is that better?”

Justin nodded, taking a sip of the wine Brian had pressed into his hand before the doors had opened.  He hadn’t had much to drink, but it was an anchor for when his nerves got to him. He missed the days when he believed everything he created was genius.  Now he had more realistic views of his work.

“I was feeling lost and uncreative.  I needed to take a hard look at what got me here and how it has impacted me,” Justin finally replied.

“So, the intention is not erotic?” she asked, looked over her shoulder at the massive portrait of Brian laid out of the bed.  

“Of course, it’s erotic,” Justin corrected her, glancing up at the image as well.  It had haunted his dreams for years, and it was no less powerful displayed on canvas.  “It can be both erotic and formative, substantive, sustaining. I am not just the sum of my struggles.  I am equally the tender moments and the support of my loved ones.”

“That portrait is very much the opposite of the painting on the other side of the partition.  The portrait is very simple. Very light and calm. The painting on the other side is vibrant and darker, almost surreal.”

Justin smiled.  “That was the intention.” 

* * *

Daphne walked through the gallery, looking at the different art that was on display.  Justin had warned her that there were several artists in the showcase, but she really didn’t mind.  It was a chance to see Justin, and it was an opportunity to see him happy about showing his work.

Brian was in the corner, watching the room with a keen eye.  Daphne would make her way over there eventually, but she wanted to see Justin’s work without Brian’s commentary.  

Making her way around, she finally caught sight of what was undeniably Justin’s work.  She was grateful that she wasn’t carrying a glass of wine, or she certainly would have dropped it.  

Hanging on the wall was a massive painting of Justin lying prone on the concrete with Brian crouched over him, cradling his body.  It almost looked like religious art of the Renaissance. Daphne could practically feel the movement in the painting, knowing that Brian was rocking Justin, stroking his bleeding head.  

Bringing her hand to her mouth, Daphne stood frozen recalling that night like it was just days earlier instead of years.  She only tore her gaze away when someone bumped into her as they moved closer to inspect the painting. 

Her attention was drawn instead to the other two portraits on the wall.  The one to its right was all action. The glint of a gun, a streak of pink, pure anger on canvas.    To the left was a portrait of Brian and Justin in a blue drenched room. Their almost naked bodies weren’t touching, and there was a bleakness to the painting despite how intimate it was.  They faced away from each other. Brian wore a pair of boxer-briefs, and Justin cradled his right arm to his chest like a broken wing.

“Daphne, looking stunning as always,” Brian whispered in her ear as she continued to stare at the painting.

“Not right now, Brian.  Why didn’t anyone mention this…” she said, gesturing to the collection of horrifying images.

“It’s art.  What’s there to say?” he asked innocently.  

“He’s never...he doesn’t...is he okay?” she asked, turning her attention to Brian.

“Why wouldn’t he be alright?”

“Brian,” she hissed.  “He’s never painted the...the bashing.”

“Then I guess it was long overdue, no?” he retorted, offering her arm and guiding her away from the paintings.  “You’ve only seen half of the show.”

“I’m afraid to see the rest if it’s like—oh my…” Daphne stopped in her tracks as she came around the wall and saw the portrait of Brian.  It was the same size as the painting of the bashing, but its unwavering focus made it seem even larger. “Did you know?”

“That this was what he was working on?  Not at first, he only said that it was more personal than other works.  He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need my permission...though I would’ve sued if he hadn’t gotten the  _ proportions  _ correct,” Brian retorted, tongue firmly in cheek.

Daphne slapped him playfully.  “You’re incorrigible. Where is he anyway?”  

“Dealing with his admirers.” Brian rolled his eyes, but Daphne could hear the pride in his voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because this isn’t just personal for him.”

“I thought you knew by now that I am an exhibitionist at heart,” Brian told her, throwing his arm over her shoulders and guiding her toward the bar.  

“It’s one thing to show everyone your dick.  It’s another to let them see you at your worst.”

“I’ll live.”  He winked, pulling her along with him.

* * *

“‘It’s unfortunate that Mr. Taylor seems determined to abandon New York when he has only just begun to produce his most poignant work,’” Justin read from Art Forum as he paced back and forth in his too small living room.

“You sure about moving back to the Pitts when you’re in the middle of making your big break?” Brian asked, continuing to pack a box of kitchen appliances which he insisted they would be donating because he would not allow anything but top of the line appliances in his kitchen.  It did not matter that he didn’t cook.

“They’d say the same thing if I moved away twenty years from now,” Justin said, making a detour in his pacing to place a kiss on Brian’s back between his shoulder blades.

“True, but are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’ve already told you that I want to be where I have people that really matter to me.  I miss the Pitts,” Justin assured him, knowing Brian had to work through his own fears of being the thing standing between Justin and his career.

“I guess I just can’t understand why you’d miss Pittsburgh.”

“Shut up,” Justin laughed, hitting Brian gently with the magazine before opening back up to the article.

“Careful, I might enjoy that.”

“You’re horrible.  Listen to this. ‘Taylor’s contributions to the exhibit almost seem schizophrenic as they pull the viewer in different directions.  However, the presentation is just as important as the works themselves. They are two sides of a coin, or two sides of a complex man.  Taylor says that the paintings show the things that have shaped him as a man and an artist. He isn’t afraid to mix eroticism and tenderness with violence and desolation.  If you view just one side of the wall, you miss an entire half of his work and half of what has formed him as an artist.’”

“Are you sure she didn’t try to get into your pants because she sounds like that’s where she’d like to be,” Brian asked, narrowing his eyes at Justin.

“There’s more.”

“Please do continue.  I love watching you jerk yourself off.”  Brian put down what he was sorting through and turned to watch Justin pace—giving Justin a salacious look in the process.

“Fuck you.”  Justin laughed, finding his place again.  “Here, this is about you. ‘Taylor’s muse manages to be the focal point of every painting in the collection without ever being the focus.  Taylor expertly manages to convey the emotions that his subject evokes, elevating the paintings from simple obsession to a poignant statement.’”

“Does she mention my impressive  _ subject  _ and the poignant statement it makes?”

“Unfortunately, your dick makes no appearances in the article.”

Brian scoffed.  “She’s a hack. It’s a good thing that I bought the portrait of me.  Can’t have someone who doesn’t fully appreciate my dick owning it.”

Justin laughed, coming to sit on the floor next to Brian.  “But just think. You could’ve been somebody else’s naked guy painting.”

“I’m already somebody’s naked guy.”

Justin grinned.  “I suppose you are.”  


End file.
